


Long Division (a Simple Math vignette)

by foxxcub



Series: Simple Math [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxcub/pseuds/foxxcub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vignette set a bit in the future in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/197742/chapters/291998">Simple Math 'verse</a>. (contains a NSFW image!!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Division (a Simple Math vignette)

  


Okay, so in my head this could be a future moment in [Simple Math verse](http://foxxcub.livejournal.com/tag/fake%20boyfrands) where Eames' family goes out of town for the weekend and leaves him alone, which then of course leads to a marathon session of sex. And Arthur's fucked out, about to pass out into the pillows, and Eames starts kissing over his shoulders carefully, letting his fingers trail over the slope of his back, the perfect curve of his ass. He still can't get over how he can touch all this now, how it's _his_ and not just some fantasy. Sometimes he'll crawl over Arthur and kiss all up and down his spine, grazing his teeth over a certain bit of muscle, and Arthur will grumble into his arms but never push Eames away.

He never pushes Eames away now, and Eames fucking loves him for it.

And maybe this time, Eames categorizes the scars on Arthur's skin--a spot leftover from a bout of chicken pox as a kid, a faded gash from when Arthur fell off his bike, the puckered line from where Arthur had his appendix removed two years ago. It's moments like this when Eames wants to memorize Arthur's body like he does a play; line by line, every angle, until he knows it by heart.

"We really should change these sheets tonight," Arthur mumbles into the pillows. He would seem oblivious to Eames' waxing poetic over his body, except he sighs softly and arches into Eames' touch.

"Or we could sleep in the den," Eames says. There's a giant leather couch downstairs, and Eames loves falling asleep with Arthur on his chest whilst they watch Tarantino movies. Arthur's yet to stay awake through all of _Reservoir Dogs_ , much to Eames' dismay.

Arthur wiggles a little closer to Eames. "Or, we could live like civilized human beings," he groans, but Eames hears the grin in his voice. "This is fucking disgusting, Eames. Five times in twenty-four hours, there's enough jizz in these sheets to be a health hazard."

"Hmm, keep talking filth, I love it." Eames nips at a spot just about Arthur's arm pit, making him hiss and jerk. Arthur is deliciously ticklish; one of Eames' new hobbies is exploiting this to its full advantage.

"Disgusting," Arthur grumbles again, and he finally turns his head on the pillow and looks up at Eames through a mess of dark curls falling in his eyes. His cheeks are still flushed from having come with Eames' fingers tucked in his arse not twenty minutes ago.

Eames feels that tight clench of want in his chest, familiar and overwhelming; he used to despise the feeling back when he thought Arthur wanted nothing to do with him, hated the uncontrollable swooping sensation whenever he caught glimpses of Arthur's smile, or a softness in his eyes. He can admit to himself now that Arthur has the power to make him a melted mess of lovesick goo--hell, he's probably had that power since they were kids.

Arthur tilts his head to one side, arches one eyebrow. "What?" he asks softly. "I'm not actually serious, you moron, the sheets probably aren't that bad--"

His words die off into Eames' mouth as Eames slides over him, hand splayed over Arthur's waist, warm and possessive. "I...I was just thinking," he whispers.

"That's dangerous," Arthur breathes.

"Fuck off, I--" Eames swallows, bumps his nose against Arthur's cheek. His heart pounds a bit faster, because it's still hard to lay himself open. After so many years of never believing in something, it's hard to truly trust in it, even when "it" is wrapped in his arms.

He closes his eyes, and says, "You're beautiful. That's all."

Arthur is quiet, and Eames opens his eyes a moment later to find him watching Eames with a startled expression.

Then, a slow, brilliant smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, his cheeks deepening into those fucking gorgeous dimples, and Eames' chest swoops again.

"Are you gonna make love to me now?" Arthur whispers, batting his eyelashes.

Eames bursts out laughing and shoves at Arthur's chest. "You little _shit_ \--"

"Yeah, romance me on your jizz-covered sheets, loverboy!" Arthur shoves back, and they end up wrestling across the bed, laughing and breathless, until Arthur pins Eames against the pillow without much effort.

"Tell me again why I put up with you?" Eames gasps. He's smiling so hard his face might break.

"Because," Arthur replies, leaning in to pull Eames' lower lip between his teeth, sucking lightly. "You like me."

Eames lets his mouth fall open, lets Arthur kiss him deep and slow and perfect. They end up sort of falling into each other, a tangle of arms and legs, but the kissing never grows in urgency. He's perfectly content to lose himself in the slick warmth of Arthur's mouth; they've got all night, and most of tomorrow.

He'll get around to telling Arthur how much he likes him at some point.


End file.
